One More Job
by As An Ember Burns
Summary: A continuation of the Tremors franchise, picking up where the short-lived series left off. There was an incident. People were called in to fix it. Vincent was one of them. It was for her. It was... One More Job... and it was gonna be a long day. Disclaimer-I do not own any characters or rights to the Tremors series, movies, or express their opinions. This is a work of fiction.
1. A Long Day

Vincent drew his sights on the graboid's opening mouth, noting a diving assblaster, a few shriekers not far behind, and knew… without a doubt… that today was gonna be a long day.

Vincent took his time, going through his morning routine. He woke, had his Keurig coffee, sat at his computer, and began to look for work.

He clicked through his various darknet sites for contracts, after pulling up his low-profile bank accounts. The balance read $8,779.73. This alone would last him barely a week in the field. He needed money, and badly.

He glanced at the framed photograph on the side of his desk, and immediately looked away, noting his conscience pricked sharply about his career choice. _Just one more job, love. _It's what he always thought when he saw her face, freckled and framed by curly, mad, dark hair.

He sighed, and gave up on his coffee. It was bitter with memories. It was her idea of a morning well spent.

Vincent pulled up one last message from one of his darknet sites. One message was new on it.

Re: Advertisement

To whom it may concern,

In response to an advertisement(s) posted, you have been emailed this response, which includes a manner of contact. Should you choose to accept the job, you will be transported to a briefing checkpoint, where you will be given a set for the task, under conditions, and payment shall be arranged.

Contact is text 'Verily' to 3458293947 ext. 973.

Sincerely,

An anxious customer

_ Shit. A blind job. Going in knowing nothing. _

Vincent looked at his account once more. He didn't have a choice. He needed the money. _If only for her sake._

He had another cup of coffee. Today was gonna be a long day.

Upon his immediate text, a response was given that a small Neon would be en-route in just under 10 minutes to pick him up for the ride to the briefing checkpoint. At least he had time for a quick shave and a bite before it got here. Thankfully it would text in a 3-2-1 fashion to let him know it was there.

He got comfortable in his custom Faded Glory jeans, and new cut Air Speed shoes. He winced getting his black tank over his scarred left clavicle, remembering her voice. He sighed once before continuing to get on his six-holster strap piece. *click* _nice and tight. Like death's embrace. _

Right as he tugged on his leather bomber jacket, and shades, a text came through.

He walked from his secretly fortified apartment, going out through the normal doors lie everyone else.

_ What else was he, but a desperate civilian with bigger bills._

He got in the faux-leather backed seat of the car. It took off, right as he clicked his belt into place.

He noted the look of the driver. Non-descript, with a zombie look about him.

"Any chance ya might tell me where I get to chat to the guys in black suits and ties, and they tell me to find the guy named Morpheus?" he said nonchalantly.

No response from the driver.

He sighed. "I knew it. Today is gonna be a long day."

He entered a building near the border of Nevada, a nice concrete building, with little features outside, no detail giving away what lay inside, what lay in wait for him.

He followed his escort, his medium-length dark hair getting lightly tossed by the breeze.

He entered a glass front and followed his escort by a desk reception. The escort showed a card, and the receptionist ignored anyone following behind, namely, him.

"The welcoming committee seems quite overjoyed." Vincent dropped with his usual sarcasm.

No response still.

Today was gonna be a long day.

All the briefing did for him, was a simple file to read en-route to his job's location.

Cheers.

A set of coordinates and some objectives was the only thing in the packet. There was also some tactical tips.

Something involving stage 1 as get to high ground, then the second as staying hidden, mostly for body heat, and later to watch the skies under the same pretense.

_ What the hell is this garbage? Probably some live fire training exercise for some rich money was good anyways. Over 73 million, and a 50k life policy. This would be worth it._

_ It would also be his last job._

He betrayed none of his thoughts to the outside world.

He closed the file and replaced it on the desk.

"So where do I get supplied?"

The attending instructor nodded to a now-see-through wall.

Weapons galore burnished the rigged wall.

"Oh?" he said, eyeing the wall, eyebrow raised.

The sheer amount of weapons was overwhelming. He noted a few were missing.

_ So, I'm not the only one. I'll keep that information for later. _

He picked a handful of varying high caliber, silenced handguns. All were power-grip customized.

Vincent also grabbed a few mini-blocks of C4 and other tiny gadgets, namely a couple throwing knives, a grenade, and a pair of walkies that came with extra wires and snips.

Noting the amount of hardware he had to choose from, he grabbed three packs of MREs and pocketed them.

The instructor made a note on the clipboard smiling.

"Today's gonna be a long day, huh?"

Another smile in answer.

He was being carted into the area with a select handful of others. It was some valley.

He was still bothered by the coordinates. Something itched at the back of his mind.

He touched the picture in his pocket.

_ One more job, love._

He peeked out of the window of his transport, noting there were 5 total.

Two people hired per.

Ten people for this job?

Noting they were on the same way he was, he assumed so.

He checked out his company in the next back passenger seat. The man was bald, tribal tattoos covering some spots, and a tense air about him.

The silent type. This would suck.

He noted that two of the transports were caravan-style, like they held cargo or something.

They did indeed have cargo, for next, there was action.

Out of both the two large transport vehicles, bikes alternately dropped out, immediately turning about from their rear-drop and zipping past, as the two transports attempted to turn around.

One would never return to base.

Immediately upon the bikes zipping ahead, an ever-so-slight rumbling happened.

A lump in the ground got close to one of the four bikers.

The biker immediately sunk down in the dirt, bike and all. The next moment the bike was propelled from the dirt, sans biker, and slammed into the tank section of the caravan, setting an explosive entrance to what Vincent realized now was Perfection Valley.

He panicked, looking to his company now with wide eyes.

He shouted "GRABOID!" not knowing whether the man knew English.

The intense look before intensified further.

The cars started an arc maneuver, and the one caravan escaped the wrath of these terrifying lumps of dirt, zipping at over 20 miles an hour.

'The car will turn sharply in 5 seconds. Exit the car via gull doors. Tuck and roll. Good luck.'

Vincent readied himself by the tinted window.

The door popped up, the car arcing.

Both he and Tattoos rolled towards a strip of road, barely a football field from some buildings he assumed was Perfection.

One man who tucked and rolled in Vincent's vision never got to stand up, as he was pulled into an early grave. Graboid.

"Shit!"

He got to his feet, two silenced hand guns at the ready, after he dropped a grenade where he once was. He started running forward.

B-BOOOM!

The grenade caused some of the rumbling to calm, and go away.

Then another horrendous thing happened.

A rumbling graboid burst out of the ground barely 30 feet away from him, right where he was running.

Vincent drew his sights on the graboid's opening mouth, noting a diving assblaster, a few shriekers not far behind, and knew… without a doubt… that today was gonna be a long day.


	2. A Great Ride

Vincent took one look at the keys in his hand, glanced out the crack in the blinds, seeing the tour car, and knew this was gonna be a great ride.

Vincent drew his sights on the graboid's opening mouth, noting a diving assblaster, a few shriekers not far behind, and knew… without a doubt… that today was gonna be a long day.

Vincent made a couple mental notes in this moment of clarity.

The town was barely a football field away.

Even though one man was already eaten, there were 8 others to be munched on, just like him.

One was right near him to help.

He had enough bullets to fulfill the deaths of some things here, and get to cover for the next step.

Vincent ran over left of the graboid. Tattoos ran right.

Vincent shot two shriekers getting close, and Tattoos pegged the last three.

Vincent made a lucky shot to the neck of the assblaster, allowing it to fall on the graboid that was now between the two.

The graboid was distracted long enough by the corpse that the two made it to the edge of town.

Three others were making it to the civilian house on the north side. Tattoos went for the Chang's Market on his right.

Vincent knew to hide in the first thing available would be a mistake.

He allowed the remaining three bikers to distract the couple of graboids and whatever other non-friendlies.

He got to the short house, getting in the door and locking immediately stepping from the door, and making an inventory count.

_Two handguns: 6 clips, 2 in already, used 5 shots, making 75 bullets total._

_Ten throwing knives._

_Four C4 blocks._

_Walkies, wires and snips._

_And of course, 3 MREs. Might have to make a meal out here in battle._

It was meager considering the graboids, but the C4 blocks evened things out, and the other people, assuming most of them survived the entry, unlike the first biker.

Vincent shuddered at the thought of going out like that. No fight, no roar of gunfire, just a helpless moment, and then… darkness.

_She held his hand, his pained grip alluding to meds not kicking in quite for the sustained injury._

He shook his head, giving his mind a physical thing to do to shake out the mental one.

Now Vincent kicked into survival mode.

He tiptoed around the tiny 3-room house near the trailer.

He found a pair of binoculars and some .22 bullets. Vincent pocketed all 20, knowing this was going to be a siege with the graboids. Finding nothing else of use, he took note of his objectives.

Stage 1 was to stay off ground. Not quite achieved, but manageable.

Stage 2 was to hide body heat from the sides. Mostly achieved in the house.

Stage 3 was to keep airborne sights under the same conditions. Again, mostly achieved.

Objective, to get to location Beta and activate control sequence procedures in the main control room.

Sub-objective, to wipe out any hyper-evolving Precambrian life-forms, and possible persons.

Vincent leaned against the south-facing window, getting his binoculars ready.

He checked the sky and immediate vicinity.

Nothing seemed close enough now.

The assumption was that only graboids were in the area.

_Wasn't the only one left sterile though? This would mean something happened with either a discovery of more, or somehow El Blanco was converted to make more of these cunning, dangerous things._

Vincent looked at the windows of Chang's Market.

_Where was Tattoos?_

Sudden movement. An edge of a face in the window. Tattoos was there, being silent, as he was.

He saw Tattoos doing what he did for the house, grabbing a few things, and…

_Was that a Twinkie? Did he seriously just have a…_

Vincent smiled letting go of the thought and was about to duck back to think how he was going to proceed when he saw something.

There was movement on the east side of the market, next to the water tower.

A shrieker was milling near the front, lolling its tongue out, generally searching for the team members.

Then it got the bright idea to use its heat sensory organs.

"Damn!" Vincent breathed, crouching in front of the door, both guns at the ready.

REEEeeEEEE!

The beast had spotted food.

Vincent tensed.

Thump thump thump went some feet.

Vincent was ready. He even eyed the back window for a quick exit.

Crash!

His door never moved.

Vincent got back into viewing position.

The shrieker was going after Tattoos!

There was a flurry of movement through the windows, as Tattoos used a knife, jumping over a table, getting in position to knife the organs on the head.

Rumble Rumble rumble

A dust trail puffed to the market, followed by another.

Graboids!

Vincent watched in awe, as Tattoos was assaulted by every creature in the vicinity.

Boards broke from the floor of the market, breaking windows, making holes in the walls.

_Oh yeah, I should get ready to finish the job._

Vincent quietly got over to the metal shack that served as a garage on the east side of town, across from the water tower, and kiddy corner to the market.

The crashing resumed, but died down a bit.

Vincent spotted some keys.

He picked them up.

_Oh yeah, the tour guide. My ride now. Where exactly is the ride?_

Vincent took one look at the keys in his hand, glanced out the crack in the blinds, seeing the tour car, and knew this was gonna be a great ride.


End file.
